I have been told I was pretty exactly three times in my
life, I remember each time vividly each meant the world to me even though I can
discount each one for a multitude of reasons that may or may not be factual, it
doesn’t matter to me. I subconsciously choose to vividly remember something I
will forever so strongly deny, and I am not sure why, if I believe it to be
mere light words with no weight to them then why bother remembering. Why bother
remembering their faces, the look in their eyes as they udder those three
little words “you are pretty”. Why do they hurt me so, cut me so deep? The
first time I heard it at the age of 17 I cried. They should be meaningless to
me. Cheap empty words. Yet they matter so much to me and they shouldn’t they
really shouldn’t. I should move on, not let it sum up who I am. Define me so. I
shouldn’t care, so why do I. almost every little girl dream of being pretty,
hell every adult woman wants to be pretty, how else would the cosmetic,
fashion, self-improvement industry be making billions a year. Why are we so
vain as a society, where does this need for beauty come from? Maybe its just
me, maybe I just feel this pressure. Maybe I’m jealous of something I’ll never
be. Maybe it hurts me so much because deep down I know that no matter how much I
want to believe it, it won’t be true. I do not say this for pity or in the “I say
I am not pretty so you will over dramatically deny it and say that I am gorgeous
or beautiful in my own way or that beauty is in the eye of the beholder” way. Its
crap. I know it is. This is not fishing for compliments, or maybe it is,
probably it is, because I value beauty far too much, I have put it on far too
high of a pedestal, to the point that I constantly replay those three moments
in my life to help me drift off to sleep on sleepless nights. I won’t let myself
forget that at some point someone somewhere for whatever external motive they
had, decided to call me pretty. It revolts me. I am not special, they have said
those words no doubt to countless others, they most likely don’t even remember,
why should they, it was not the most monumental moment of their young
adult lives, yet sadly it is mine. WHY!!!!!! The people in family are not great
looking, I don’t have the best genetics its not my fault. But why do they have
to put silly ideas in my head, inflate my fragile ego, make me mistrust my good
sensible judgment. I am not a fool, I don’t fall for baseless frivolities, or
maybe I do. I clearly do. I have taken to many selfies and have spent too long looking
in the mirror waiting to see what they once told me they saw. Sometimes I can
catch a glimpse of it for a mere second, but I know it is just a figment of my
imagination a want that will never come to fruition. This is dumb. I have said too
much on the topic already, it really shouldn’t matter to me, I need to get over
this. I probably won’t get over this. That is what scares me most, that I’ll
spend forever chasing a ghost that was never even there. I know those souls
meant well but I wish those three words had never been spoken my way. Now they
are seared into my brain, a brain that frankly could be doing better things
with its limited amount of energy. But
their words cut me so deep, made me so sad, made me feel revolted with myself,
because of how badly I wanted to believe, yet how much I knew it wasn’t true. Then
I start playing the mind game in my head, this tortuous game of chess that
nobody wins. Why would they lie, why would they hurt me by telling me something
so untrue. This is why I cried that first time, because I hate being lied to. I
hate it, it is patronizing and manipulative. What did he gain from such a lie,
why twist my mind into knots like that, those words have sharper edges then one
could ever imagine and he just tossed it around so carelessly, like a child
running around with scissors, unaware of the danger he posed. It is not fair to
blame them, the child does not know any better, or maybe they do, maybe they
enjoy the sight of blood. I stay far away from such children as I prefer my
blood to remain securely within my veins. Am I the only one who reacts with disgust to
these words, I surely can’t be, maybe I am, maybe I am the only person on this
planet to twist such a compliment into a devious plot out to shred the little
self-esteem I have left.
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